Seven Months of Lucky
by cloverish
Summary: Seven months might just be enough to change a lot of things. Someone simply forgot to warn her that. Maybe three leaf clovers are a good sign, after all. BB, just fluff.


**Yes, this is just a fluffy piece, with nothing more important than Booth and Brennan and something else. Almost – if any at all – no case involved because I am lazy, so sue me. **

**This is AU. So no Brennan asking for a baby. No silly tumor. And most of all, no silly "Who are you?" in the end. :D**

**I do not own anything, but I didn't get any birthday presents, so.  
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**Thanks Thay for setting up a minimum page limit, for laughing at my face, and for being under sedative medication while reading this.**

**This is Seven Months of Lucky. Happy reading. \o/**

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**Seven Months of Lucky.**

**Chapter One.**

If there was one thing Temperance Brennan did not believe in – apart from psychology, a gold pot at the end of a rainbow and magic, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, witches and warlocks, Harry Potter, Tooth Fairies, Halloween's Great Pumpkin… oh wait, she did believe in Halloween's Great Pumpkin as a little girl impaled by Charlie Brown's comic strip character's Linus, but that is another story – this thing was **Luck.**

The plus sign on the white marker-like garment she had in her hands certainly did not mean this was her lucky day. She felt queasy, and it had more to do with the positive sign on the test, rather than the reason why it was there in the first place.

Abruptly getting up from her seat on the closed toilet lid, she threw the box in the trash, tucking the small test in her navy blue lab coat pocket. She needed Angela, and she needed her now.

Washing her sweaty hands, she sighed; letting the water fill a spooning hand, so she could throw some of the cold liquid to her face. This should not be happening.

For as long as she – or any employee at the Jeffersonian – could remember, doctor Temperance Brennan had developed a very high resistance to any foul odor of any stage of decomposition as well as the appearance the decomposing organics had taken.

But not this morning. This morning she had done it. She had excelled in methods of: how to look stupid in front of your co-workers. And today, that included clutching her stomach and emptying all of its contents into an unused evidence plastic bag, as soon as she had seen the victim's face, which matched perfectly the smell that caused unsettling convulsions in her insides, since the moment the body was wheeled into her lab.

Excusing herself quietly, she rushed towards her office's restroom, where ironically a pregnancy test sat in its full glory on top of her sink. Had the smell of putrefied flesh not made itself almost permanent inside the doctor's nostrils, this would certainly smell of Angela.

Stepping out of the cubicle adjacent to her office, her hand immediately fell to her chest.

"Sweetie! Did you take it?" Angela scurried through the glass door as her best friend laid a hand on the left portion of her chest as if trying to stop the sudden rush in her heartbeat.

"Ange! You gave me a fright!" The blue-eyed woman exclaimed, taking an involuntary step backwards before regaining composure and plopping down on the chair she has grown fond of over the years, behind her desk.

"Yeah, well, I have that effect on people, and it's not even Halloween yet." She smiled wickedly. Brennan shot her a mean look, before resting her forehead on the cold glass of her desk, in a desperate attempt of cooling down. "Anyway, that's not important. Did you take it? Where is it?" Her brown eyes lit up, and she chuckled at her best friend's groan. Yep. She had taken it.

"Urinating on a stick is overrated." Brennan's voice was muffled from the desk, and the brunette couldn't help but laugh half-heartedly as she asked loudly why couldn't Brennan just call it 'pee'.

"It is also like magic. You pee on it, minutes later you either get a plus or a minus sign, so tell me it's a plus so I can go baby shopping for my future goddaughter, or godson." The guilty look on Brennan's eyes set a tug on Angela's heart, but the artist decided her friend might as well suck it up and face the music – or the sound of long days of indigestion and, at least eight months from now, baby screams. It couldn't be so bad. The doctor was fully grown up – way too grown up mentally, almost old and senile, really – was financially secure for the rest of her life due to best selling books… and she was in love. How bad could a love child be?

"How bad could it be? Ange! I have no idea how to care for a child!" Brennan protested, sitting up. Her tone was annoyed but not loud enough to be heard outside the closed doors of her office.

"You took care of Andy without a problem. And then there's Parker. Parker loves you. And you may not know it, but it kind of kicks in naturally. It does to you, I've seen it."

"That is non sense, Angela. I've only spent a couple of hours with Parker, and never, ever alone. Andy was just easy because he had you literally drooling over him every single minute of the day, I almost didn't even have to touch him." She had a point, but to deny she didn't enjoy the time she had spent with both boys would be a major lie.

Angela sighed. As much as she loved Brennan, sometimes she felt like she was talking to a wall. A very, very cute wall, but still made of bricks.

"You are just freaking out. It's normal." The slightly shorter woman made her way around the office desk, and sat on top of it, a foot sitting carefully on the side of the large chair that engulfed Brennan, moving it from side to side soothingly. "You'll get over it. Not to mention Booth's a great father to that little boy, we have to give him some credit. He will be able to undo almost everything you'll do wrong with this baby." Angela's tone was light, but once Brennan looked at her on the verge of crying, her bottom lip pouting and trembling slightly, the brunette noticed her mistake. "And vice versa! And vice versa, you can undo the mistakes Booth will make, also."

"That was not convincing." She sniffled soundly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It was a joke. You know, to lighten the mood. You might as well smile." Before Brennan knew, she was being engulfed in a tight hug. Aside the fact that air was quickly becoming an issue, she really appreciated her best friend's effort. She really, really needed that hug. "There's no turning back now, Bren." The knowing tone in that voice was too true; she almost fell sick again. There was no turning back now.

x

Seeley Booth felt every right to consider himself a lucky man. Sure, a lot of things had gone wrong in the past and he still had to live up for a few of his mistakes; but right now, in this very instant he could just close his eyes, breath deeply and know that life was good to him.

He felt good about his job. Catching bad guys and saving the world at the end of the day sure seemed like a manly fairy tale. He had an amazing, smart little boy waiting for him outside school every Friday afternoon. He had his favorite ice cream flavor anytime he wanted on the ice cream parlor just down the street. Clowns had suddenly vanished from his life… not to mention the most beautiful human being he had ever seen, relying on him to protect her – even if she gave him a hard time about it – to never leave her. To love her fully and in every sense of the word.

Though he sometimes felt the object of his affection sometimes had trouble admitting to herself just how much she loved him. He chuckled, remembering she would have rather hit him with a flower pot instead of admitting she loved him first. But that she did, she had said it first. He just couldn't believe his luck.

Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan had been an item for much longer than they thought they had. But now it just felt normal to say they'd been together for almost five years and, thank goodness, hadn't killed each other. Yet.

Death seemed far, far away. Especially when a new life was just beginning. Just beginning because he had only just convinced the big brained and hard headed doctor to move in with him. Or, in this case, move in to somewhere entirely different, where he'd move into too. At the same time. That was three weeks, five days and thirteen hours ago. He felt silly keeping track of time; but who could blame him?

He felt mostly lucky when she'd let him keep half the fridge for his meaty tendencies of nourishment, and had not felt the need to complain about the stacks of tofu almost turning green inside their refrigerator because Miss Three Times a Week Vegetarian often forgot what it meant to eat. Obviously, it consisted in chewing anything edible and gulping it down. Something she did not remember to do very often.

And the best thing ever – at least what his annoying side would've complained largely if it was not the way he would've liked – she preferred the right side of the bed. Hah! Life was seriously good to him. Even though he had had to get used to placing his right foot on the floor first, just in case. Thankfully, he had more than 30 years to practice just that.

And since he was just so fortunate, he had just learned that flashing his badge to the new manager at his favorite Thai restaurant would give him the chance to slip in front of the other costumers. Just out of sheer fear. From the new manager, of course.

x

"I don't want to tell him." She admitted, placing both her hands on her lap and looking down, shamefully.

"Bren, I can not believe I heard you say those words. Rewind." Angela sighed from her place on the couch. She was sure it was now shaped as her rear end, but she felt no desire to leave her best friend alone to deal with it. Oh, scratch that. After the painful last six minutes, she felt the desire to leave. Every other second. But she'd feel too guilty to do just that. So, the brunette closed her eyes, just to hide from Brennan that she was rolling them in pure lack of amusement.

"There's no rewind button in life Angela. This wasn't taped."

"Metaphorically speaking Brennan. When you don't understand it, it's always metaphorical."

"Or pop culture related, most of the time."

"Or pop culture." The artist ran her hand through the cushion she had trapped under her legs and, lifting one of them, she threw it aside. "You can't just hide it from him."

"Why not? He can't see the indicators and he certainly can't see the difference in my iliac crest."

"That doesn't mean it's the right thing to do. He'll notice something's different sooner or later. You might grow a cup or too." Angela nodded her head, indicating her best friend's chest. "Oh, and not to mention the fact that it'll look like you swallowed a watermelon whole."

"That is an offensive way to phrase the situation! But, I don't know, Angela. I just need time."

That was most probably something she would like to discuss with her mother. Angela knew that talking to a headstone would be no good for Brennan right now. But maybe her father could help some.

Both women's thoughts were interrupted by the lack of a knock on the glass door, and a certain special agent walking in with his trademark smile that almost turned into a loopside grin when he saw his Bones lifting herself from the her chair.

"Hey there, Bo-" his lips were puckered as he tried to make contact with her forehead. Only to have something pushed right into his chest.

"I'm pregnant." She blurted. Handing him the stick and leaving the office, stomping like a five year old towards Jack's station.

"nes." He continued. His lips still out in a pout as his hands grabbed for something he had not yet registered.

"Her 'I need some time' time ends up real fast."

"What?"

"Nothing." Angela prompted herself up in a jump, and skipped out of the room. But not without looking back and catching a glimpse of a very surprised Seeley Booth and suppressing the need to let him know he'd have that same expression forever if he kept it up.


End file.
